A Night When Villains Stirred

It was night in the Royal Capital.

In a room of a large mansion in an upscale residential district, a skinny middle-aged man wore a vicious grin.

It was Medici, the medicine dealer.

The fairly spacious room was decorated with gaudy furnishings in gold and black.

Medici knelt before a misshapen statue displayed on a small altar and bowed his head.

“Lord Deathscythe, the evil god, I have a report. I delivered a bouquet to the Puchi Elixir shop.”

All at once, the statue began to emit a black light.

In time with the flickering glow, a voice—neither clearly male nor female—echoed.

“So. Well done. And did you give it to the former hero, Alec?”

“No. He happened to be absent. I was thinking of delivering it again tomorrow. Today I gave it to the other one—the slave woman called Liricia.”

“Hmph. Well done. If you can dispose of those two, I shall grant you greater power.”

“Ha-ha—what a blessing. I will continue to devote myself.”

Medici bowed so deeply his head nearly touched the floor.

Then the statue’s light vanished.

Silence filled the room.

Medici kept his head lowered for about a minute, but when he realized there would be no further communion, he raised himself.

A satisfied smile spread across his face.

“Heh-heh. To think Thomson would be executed and my era would arrive. The Forlight family is bankrupt, and the Minister’s faction—the collaborators—have all fallen together. From here, if I use the evil god’s power while acquiring Puchi Elixir’s recipe, I can control this country’s economy. …It was worth secretly arranging it so I could negotiate things myself. Kuhahah!”

Laughing as his thin body shook, Medici headed for the door.

Beyond it was an ordinary study. The room with the evil god statue did not face the hallway.

Medici sat at the desk in the study and began scribbling notes on paper as he muttered.

“Who will be the new Minister of State, I wonder. With the nobles’ influence weakening, it’s highly likely someone under the King’s thumb will take the post. In that case… Lord Hamp, or Leon… I should send gifts to the Minister of Medicine and the ducal house as well. …And I’ll propose an acquisition to the major shipping company Tiger Cat Express. If they refuse, then a bouquet… heh-heh. I’m practically in the position of pulling the strings of this country now.”

With an ugly grin on his darkened face, Medici moved his pen with relish.

After a while, he suddenly lifted his head.

He looked at the portrait of a man hanging on the study wall—thick mustache, a rugged but earnest-looking face.

“Heh-heh. Father, are you watching from heaven? Soon even the country will be mine, you know? See, you should’ve let me inherit the business. I’m the one who made the shop this big, with my own skill. My little brother was nothing but honest—an utterly useless trait. Honestly, if you’d let me inherit from the start, neither of you would’ve had to die… what fools.”

Medici giggled to himself.

Originally, the Medici medicine shop had been a small business with only a handful of branches.

He seized real power by removing his father and brother, then used ruthless methods to turn it into one of the top one or two medicine dealers in the nation.

Yet he did not waste money on hobbies or indulgence.

He thought only about profit—no matter the means.

He kept no mistress, even ate simple meals, and was known as a stingy, greedy man.

Medici’s laughter echoed through the study for a long time.

An evil temple towered, shrouded in darkness.

Inside the great hall, pillars stood at even intervals, supporting a high ceiling.

In one corner, a grim-faced Demon King sat under a heated table and wrote on paper, while the bewitching beauty Sklasis held a grotesque statue.

The Demon King, writing a plot outline—Volume Two—asked Sklasis:

“So. Is it going well?”

Sklasis spun as if to fan out her long black-purple hair, striking a pose that emphasized her shapely chest and slim waist.

But despite the sensual body, she wore a bright, beaming smile.

“Of course! Look, Demon King! I catered to your so-called entertainment! This is the perfect balance of nobility and approachability!”

Sklasis thrust her hand forward. In it was a small statue.

It was a chibi-like evil god statue, simplified to a squat, cartoonish shape—creepy, yet oddly cute like a mascot.

The Demon King stopped writing, frowned, and looked up.

“That kind of talking down is what people hate most. Humans are foolish, but they’re sharp about noticing when they’re being mocked.”

“Hmph. Anyone who can’t understand my art can take a hike!”

Sklasis puffed her chest proudly. Her large breasts bounced heavily.

The Demon King snorted at her confidence.

“If you create with that attitude, it’ll never become popular. A true Demon King’s skill is giving a pleasant aftertaste, slipping under their notice, and dragging them down the path of corruption!”

“What did you say!? …Aren’t you just jealous of my talent~?”

“Hah! Ridiculous! I’m a bestselling author with one hundred million copies sold! People may envy me, but I don’t envy anyone—not even a speck! Fuhahahaha!”

Sitting under the heated table, the Demon King puffed his chest and roared with laughter.

Sklasis furrowed her brows in disgust and shot back, her black-purple hair swaying.

“One hundred million copies you forced monsters and demons to buy! Getting drunk on inflated sales is so pathetic! How many copies did you actually sell to humans? Go on—say it!”

“W-what nonsense! ‘Total copies’ means copies printed! Actual sales don’t matter! Even if the real number is small, it’s still supported far more than your weird statues!”

“Oh, you want to play that game? This loose-and-scary evil god statue will be way more popular than your filthy little novels!”

“What did you say!?”

The Demon King stood, glaring with pressure that could have killed a human.

Sklasis, slightly shorter, stepped in without flinching and glared up at him with a ferocity that felt cursed.

For a moment, sparks practically flew between their eyes.

Neither backed down, faces hard as they confronted each other.

But they ended up so close their noses nearly touched, and Sklasis suddenly flushed and looked away in embarrassment.

Seeing that, the Demon King also panicked, fumbled, and ducked back under the heated table to sit again.

He cleared his throat, then spoke in an exaggeratedly calm voice.

“So. Is the Alec countermeasure going well?”

“Eh!? O-oh, yeah. My believers are lowering Alec’s reputation and also aiming for his life. It looks like it’ll go well.”

“Hm. …Just don’t get careless.”

“Oh, come on~. Of course it’ll work!”

“I see. Then let’s watch your performance.”

The Demon King resumed drafting his plot under the heated table.

Sklasis pouted, dissatisfied, and turned to her workbench to knead clay.

Her cheeks were still faintly red.

“Until Sklasis sees her life flash before her eyes and dies: 2 days remaining.”